You're Not Sorry
by thehopefulone
Summary: House gets into a reckless accident and ends up hurting Thirteen as a result. The only way she will give him forgiveness is if he can prove he's truly sorry.
1. The Crash

**A/N- I had a random idea, and this is what happened. It will probably turn into a multi-chapter story very soon. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Keep your eyes on the road"_ He thinks to himself, but they won't stay. He opens them as wide as he can, trying desperately to follow the yellow line but all they want to do is close. He shouldn't be driving -not after all the scotch and Vicodin that he has had - but he's almost home now. _

_His eyes are still fighting with him. _"Just let them close for one second"_ he allows, his heavy lids finally getting the relief they have been craving. _"One second can't hurt."

_But that's where it always starts. _ _It only takes one second to change a life._

* * *

"House?"

He can hear his name being called by a familiar voice, but it sounds a hundred miles away. _"Who was that voice, anyway?" _His brain racks itself for clues. _"It's a female,… Cuddy? No, her voice is sharper. Cameron? Not enough concern….Thirteen? Yes! Thirteen!"_

His eyes flash open as his brain solves the puzzle and he finds himself looking into the deep blue eyes of his only female team member.

"What are you doing here?" His voice slurs. He doesn't know where he is, everything is jumbled and confusing. His eyes clear after a moment and he realizes that he is lying on his back and that he can see stars. Not hallucinations as a result of a concussion or a cartoon reaction to being hit over the head: he can see the night sky loaded with thousands of tiny stars. He wants to stare at them forever, but Thirteen is talking again. She still sounds so far away.

"House, blink if you can hear me." She sounds desperate. He tries his best, and his eyes blink.

"Thank god." He hears her sigh. She yells something, but it isn't to him.

He begins to take it all in: the red and blue lights, the people rushing around, the fact that he can't move.

Wait. _He can't move._

His breathing quickens. He tries as hard as he can to move, thrashing himself around, but not a single muscle even twitches.

"He's having a panic attack!" Thirteen yells. He still can't figure out why she's here. "Get me a sedative, he needs to sleep. Attempting to move is only going to worsen the injury and decrease chance of recovery!" Her words come out rapid-fire-fast, and House can only comprehend a few of them.

Another doctor appears above him, in the corner of his vision. "He can't have a sedative, not with the amount of alcohol in his blood. You're just going to have to keep him calm." He doesn't know this man, but knows he doesn't like him.

_"Just let me have the sedative." _He wants to pass out so bad now. _"I don't mind if my heart stops."_

"The damage to his spine is only going to get worse if you don't sedate him!" The brunette kneeling at his side argues.

"You aren't a doctor right now." The man replies, shaking his head before leaving Houses' limited field of vision.

Thirteen leans in closer. "I'm sorry." She whispers, the words soft on her lips.

He needs to talk. It freaks him out that he hasn't been able to say anything.

_"Focus," _He clears his mind of all things except for communication "_Use your brain."_

Thirteen watches him intently as his lips very carefully form the words he wants to say.

"Whaaat. Happened?" They come out slow, but clear.

She looks insulted by the question, and this is the first time he has noticed that she's bleeding from her eyebrow and she's holding one arm with the other. Her wrist is broken.

"House, you really don't remember?" She sets her shoulders back and narrows her eyes a little. When he doesn't answer she sighs in frustration, tears forming in her eyes. "I was driving and you…and you… were behind me." He tries to remember this, to remember anything, but nothing comes at all. It's incredibly annoying to not be able to remember your own life. "House, you were driving drunk, and…" She looks really upset now.

"You hit me." Thirteen finishes, before getting up and walking towards the flashing lights. All he's left with is frustration the star-filled sky.


	2. Missing pieces

He wakes up to an empty hospital room, a banana bag hanging from the IV.

How much did he have to drink? How much Vicodin did he swallow? These are questions he can't answer, and the guilt consumes him more than it should.

No one closed the blinds, and he can see that the hospital is busy outside the glass walls of his room. Nurses rush, patients cry, worried family paces.

It all goes on without him.

He yawns, still tired, but he is curious to find out more. He looks around him, and doesn't see anything of his own. No clothes, no wallet, no cane. He doesn't understand, but he needs to. In a swift moment, House unclips the IV and swings his legs over the side of the bed, limping across the room and into the busy hall.

He HAS to know what happened. There's a piece of yesterday that has been wiped clear from his brain, and his body aches to fill in the blanks.

There's only one rational place to start. He pushes open the door labeled "Lisa Cuddy."

She looks up, and the concern flashes across her face before she can stop it. Then, a quick breath, and her face becomes void of emotions.

"Dr. Hadley talked to me." She informs him. Her voice is flat and expressionless.

House can only nod. His mind craves to know what Thirteen could have said to her, but he has to keep it casual. Cuddy can't know what's in his mind.

"House, what were you thinking? Remy could barely talk, she was shaking so hard. Your car went right at hers, no stopping. Why were you driving? You were blind drunk. That's a stupid decision, even for you."

Cuddy's face is red with frustration, and she's giving him the most disappointed look he's ever seen.

"I...I don't know what I was thinking." He says, his voice low.

Cuddy moves across the room to him and sits down next to him. He's scared that she's gonna try and touch him- a hug, even a pat on the shoulder- but she doesn't. He's glad.

"There are programs." She begins softly. "I can get you help. Anonymously, if you want."

"I don't." He snaps, his voice harsh.

Cuddy bites her lip. She never know what to say to him about these things. She wants, she NEEDS, him to change but it's not that easy. He doesn't ever react the way she wants him too: it's like trying to use a rock to replace a ball of play-doh. You can't shape the rock; you can't shape House.

"I'm here if you need me."

He stays silent, waiting for her to finish so he can go and think.

"Please need me."

It's all she can say, and he knows that. He grabs his cane and leaves.

He doesn't want to see her, this girl he almost killed. What he needs is someone who is going to tell him the truth, despite the love they feel for him. This means he either needs his mother or Cameron. He chooses the latter.

When he finds her, she's at the emergency room desk, shuffling through papers. When she turns, she gives him her warm smile. He knows he doesn't deserve it.

"Nice of you to stop by." Cameron says. She's got on pink scrubs with a streak of blood on the sleeve. Her hair is messy, it must be nearing the end of her shift. Despite this, she looks happy and energized. He doesn't understand that.

"I have to be with a patient," Cameron says, clutching the file in her hand. "But your certainly welcome to come along." Her voice is chirpy on the outside, but something in him senses deception. He goes along anyway.

Cameron walks intentionally slower so he can keep up, and pulls back the curtain to the "room" in a swift manner.

Inside, Thirteen sits in a hospital gown, her legs and bare feet swinging off the side of the table. One arm is in a sky blue cast, the other is holding a thick gauze pad to her head.

He expects, falsely, that she will be happy to see him visiting her. But no, she only looks more in pain.

Cameron gently removes the gauze pad, and he sees the the repercussions of his binge. Her left eye was swollen and black. There was a deep cut from the corner of that eye going up to the crown of her hair. The whole left side of her face was a combination of pale, blood, and bruise. Her hands shake as Cameron numbs the area, prepping for stitches.

House only stares, wondering why his brain won't just fill on the pieces already.

So he sits quietly, hoping she will break the silence first. She doesn't.

"Ow." Thirteen cries to Cameron.

"I'm sorry," Cameron says reassuringly. "But we wouldn't numb any deeper, or we'd risk brain damage."

"No," Thirteen interjects. "It's not my head, it's my stomach."

Cameron gently inches up Thirteens gown, revealing her legs and panties. But all House can see is the blue circle across her left side, about as big as a baseball.

"Internal hemorrhaging." Cameron breathes, and turns to ask him to please get Chase for surgery, but House is already gone.

Cameron looks back to Thirteen, who is trying to cry, but her swollen eye makes everything hurt worse.


	3. Healing and Quiting

She looks different when she's sleeping. Her usually serious expression becomes replaced with a kind of serene peace that House will never have.

He knows that she's done bad things too, but here she is the innocent one; not even 29 yet, practically still a child compared to him. He did this too her, so he makes himself watch the surgery. All of it.

The anesthesiologist places the mask over her face, and he can see her slanted brown eyes blink closed within seconds. Then Chase reaches for the scalpel, making an easy incision into her stomach. He repairs the tear, stitching her up and cleaning up the blood from her skin.

House cringes, looking at the stitches, before they cover her again.

The memories don't come back.

After the surgery, he goes to his office. He needs to think, so he reclines in his desk chair. He picks up the red ball and turns it over in his hands, wondering if he had known it was Thirteen in front of him, or if that was a coincidence.

Before he can decide, the door swings open. Cameron's heels dig into the carpet as she walks, and she looks angry.

"You should be with her," Cameron says. He thinks at first that she's crying, but she's just shaking with frustration. "You should wait for her to wake up and apologize."

House shakes his head, mixed feelings crawling through his bloodstream like parasites. He hates that Cameron is judging him. "She doesn't want me there." His words come out bitter. He watches her clench her fists, then uncurl them gradually. She takes a slow breath and takes her time finding words. When she finally does speak, her voice and words dig into him like stepping on a tack.

"Your memory may be gone, but you don't deserve the benefit of the doubt. You owe her everything, House. She's dying from Huntington's, dying from this job. You make everyone worse."

She pauses, and he thinks she's going to tell him again to apologize. But it doesn't need to be said; his answer is too predictable. She just leaves.

* * *

The quiet beep of monitors have always been calming to Thirteen. They sort of represented what she had accomplished: becoming a doctor. Now, the beep is the first thing she hears and that helps. She doesn't want to open her eyes. Not yet.

She can't feel her stomach - not with all the drugs in her system- so that's good, she assumes. Her head throbs and pounds, but her thoughts seem to be clear. The arm inside the cast is sweaty, but that's a minimal concern.

Externally, she's okay. Internally, she's shaken. All logic tells he that it's silly to be so upset over a car crash, but this is different. This is House, and nothing is a coincidence. She knows that.

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears a shift beside her. Her eyes peel open and the dim room floods into her vision. Her hand moves a little, then she slowly turns her head. All movements are controlled, just in case there's an injury there. Luckily, she feels okay.  
Her eyes land on Foreman, hunched over in the chair beside her bed. When he sees her moving he gets up and stands beside her.  
She smiles up at him, looking into his deep brown eyes, and moves her good arm up to rest on his chest. He's warm and muscular, and she wants him now, to comfort her through all that's happened.

Her thoughts are answered by him leaning over the bed rail to be closer to her. One hand falls to her cheek as he moves towards her, and she wraps her arm around his neck and tugs him closer. Their lips meet and his kiss feels like relief.

When he lifts his head to look at her, he sees the tears in her eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" He whispers, concerned. He was worried about the stitches on her stomach and her forehead. But Thirteen only shakes her head, trying to hide the tears from him. "I'm okay," She runs her hand along his cheek. "Thank you for being here."

"I'll be here always." He responds, and she laughs, kissing him softly.

* * *

When she wakes up again, Foreman is gone and the room is empty. There's a note from him, written in his neat handwriting, that reads:  
Baby,

Went to a differential. Hopefully I'm back before you wake, but if not, I love you

-Fore

Her head feels better, and she's able to fully access her physical state.

Her body is draped in an awful papery feeling kind of hospital gown. She inches it up until she can see her stomach. The stitches are covered in a gauze bandage taped onto her skin. Thirteen peels back the tape to reveal the swollen flesh around the thread. She counts them, then laughs and counts again to confirm. Exactly 13, the number that has always seemed to be in her life, even before this job.

Soon, a nurse come in and checks her over. "Do you have someone who can care for you while you heal?" She asks. "It will be 3-4 weeks before you can be up and moving for extended periods of time."

"Yes." Thirteen assures her, knowing that Foreman will take good care of her.

"Good." The nurse smiles. "Then whenever you're ready I can discharge you. You're healing up nicely."

"Perfect." Thirteen says, gently swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The nurse places a hand on Thirteen's back to stable her, and she carefully gets up.

Foreman left her some clean clothes to change into when she gets out: jeans and a loose shirt

The nurse gives her the papers as Thirteen slowly pulls on her leather boots. She feels better, being in her everyday clothes.

Foreman finally comes back from the differential and helps her into a wheelchair, carefully so she doesn't pull any of the stitches in her stomach.

He pushes her through the hospital, toward the parking garage, when they see House.

"Thirteen." He says, nearly stumbling. "When are you coming back to work? He tries to joke, but it comes out awkward and forced.

She thought she was at peace with this, but seeing him fills her with rage.

"You never even said you're sorry." Thirteen says, her lip quivering. Her voice says that it's about the apology, but he knows he's done so much worse.

"I quit." She says, and Foreman pushes her out of the hospital and takes her home.

* * *

**A/N- Sorry this took so long, but hopefully you are still interested. I'll be updating soon!**


	4. Hot chocolate and job postings

**A/N- Getting closer to the end of this story, probably one more chapter after this one. I hope you all like this update and please review and let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Okay," Foreman says as he lifts Thirteen into her bed. "You've got your mug of hot chocolate, two magazines, your phone, your laptop, your chargers, and a few extra pillows in case you want to prop yourself up. Do you need anything else?"

Thirteen just smiles up at him and shakes her head. "You've covered everything."

He leans down at kisses her softly on the lips. "I'll be home in a few hours." He says, and leaves to go back to work. She may have quit her job, but one of them had to keep working.

Thirteen lets her body relax into the pillows, feeling physically good because of the cocktail of pain medications she was on, but on the inside she was conflicted. She knew she wouldn't be able to go back to work for at least a month, but not having a job anymore made her nervous. How would she afford her apartment? Or her car payment? Or her insurance? She had enough in savings to get by for a little while, but it would go quickly.

The brunette carefully lifts her laptop and settles in on top of her thighs, taking a sip of hot chocolate while she waits for it to boot up. She does a Google search for hospital jobs near Princeton, scrolling through the nursing, janitor, and cafeteria positions.

Then, an offer catches her eye: a position working in diagnostics. She could keep doing exactly what she loved! Interested, she clicks on the link and it leads her to the PPTH page. She sighs and reads the job description.

_Position in diagnostics available!_

_Dr. Gregory House is in need of a new team member. Must be approximately 5'7 in height with brown hair and foreign-looking slanted eyes. Must be bisexual and test positive for Huntington's Korea. Also, must be comfortable with replacing name with a number, for example: Thirteen. Online applications available below._

Thirteen sighs and snaps her laptop shut. It's been less than two hours since she quit and he already was trying to get her back. But if he wanted her to come back so badly, why wouldn't he just apologize?

Furthermore, why did she care so much about him apologizing? She should know better than to expect any type of human connection from him, yet here she is.

But deep down, she knows that he shouldn't be able to do this to her. He has emotionally broken her down so many times, and she's forgiven him every time. But now he has causes her physical, undeniable, pain. Thirteen can't just forgive him again. It's different this time.

* * *

"House!"

The diagnostician can hear Cuddy yelling from down the hall, her heels clicking on the white marble floors with every step. The glass door to his office flings open angrily and Cuddy stands before him in a black pencil skirt and low-cut violet blouse.

"Hello" House says, staring at her chest.

"Firstly, you cannot post job openings without administrator approval." Cuddy says. "And secondly, you cannot post job openings that aren't really OPEN. If you want Thirteen back, you are going to have to _apologize_. She made that fairly clear." The Dean of medicine stops to take a breath, and House stands shakily, reaching for his cane.

"Where are you going?" Cuddy says as he pushes the door to his office open.

"To apologize." House calls back, and Cuddy knows that it won't go as well as she wants it to.

* * *

"You should be home with her." Chase says as Foreman stares into the patient file, trying to figure out what he's missing. They gave the patient drugs to stop her stomach cramps, yet they persisted. Foreman's mind was turning a hundred miles an hour. Between his worry about the patient and his worry about his girlfriend, there was no rest.

"Foreman." A sharp Australian accent interrupts, and the doctor looks up from the file at his friend. "If you don't let yourself rest you are not going to be of use to anyone. I know it's hard because Thirteen is hurt, but overworking yourself isn't going to help her. Give the file to Taub and Kutner and _go home to her."_

Foreman stares at the wall for a moment, not seeming to comprehend anything that Chase had said. Then everything clicked. "Not going to be of use…" He murmurs, and rushes off to the patient room.

"Do you know what's wrong with me?" The girl says sleepily as Foreman flips on the light in her room and unhooks the IV from the line.

"You were allergic to one of the ingredients in the pain medication." Foreman says. "It stopped your stomach cramps, but the allergic reaction caused different cramps. The same inactive ingredient was used in your inhaler. That's why you got sick every time you were physically active."

"So, if I just stop taking medicines with that ingredient, I'll get better?" The girl asks, and Foreman nods.

"We'll put you on temporary dialysis to clear the rest of the drug out of your kidneys, and then you should be good to go."

When he left the patient's room, Foreman felt a small rush of relief. He solved the mystery this time, not House, and now he could go home and take care of Thirteen.

When he opened the door to her apartment, though, he found that someone else was already there. He could hear the voices drifting from the bedroom. He quietly stood outside the door and listened.

"I want you to come back to work when you've healed." It's House's voice.

"No," She says. "You hit me, obviously for a reason. Then you didn't even apologize."

"I would apologize if I knew what I was apologizing for! I don't remember anything from that night, at all!"

"You were stupid drunk!" Thirteen counters. "What else is there to know?"

"I don't remember where I was before I got in the car. I don't know if it was a bar or a club, I have no idea. I don't remember if I saw you before the accident. I don't even know if I was conscious it was your car. All I know is that I made one of my best doctors quit because I was an idiot one night and got into my car while intoxicated. And I'm sorry, Thirteen." He takes a breath. "I really am sorry."

Thirteen had never seen this kind of emotion come from him, ever. And here it was, all for her.

"I'll come back." She says. "When I'm better."

House gives her a slow, approving, nod. He turns to go, but only takes a few steps before looking back at her.

"I won't stop trying to remember."


End file.
